Temerarious Tabias: July snow

April Showers bring May flowers, so June glowers at July’s last snowing hours?

Tabias glared out the window at the falling snow. It covered the fresh green grass. School was out for summer, friends were travelling, and he was stuck at grandparents’ house — with Sister. Grandfather snored silently on the couch, babysitting.

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“Tabias,” Sister’s nose pinched, whiny voice came from the kitchen. “Where’s the milk?”

“It’s gone,” Tabias replied. Grandfather didn’t even budge in his sleep.

“I can’t have cereal then!?” she wailed and appeared next to Tabias.

“Quiet, sister, we’ll have to wait till grandmother’s home. Then she’ll take us to buy milk.” Tabias resumed watching the snowflakes pile outside the window.

“Isn’t it supposed to be summer break?” Sister asked, folding her arms like Tabias had on the windowsill. They stood there silent for a moment, as if they enjoyed each other's company.

Then, sister asked if they could make a snowman.

“Might as well,” Tabias replied.

Coats were put on, gloves, and sneakers. It wasn’t really cold outside so they just needed to cover all the sensitive parts. Tabias made sure sister’s coat was zipped up as he knew all too well how many complaints she could have if snow were to touch her skin.

“It’s too tight!” she complained instead.

Outside, Sister whined that the sun was too bright and her sunglasses were in grandmother’s truck. When they rolled the giant snowballs, she complained they were too heavy.

“The snow's too sticky! It’s all over my gloves and jacket. Tabias! Are you even listening to me?” She snapped and threw a handful of snow at him. It slid down the back of his jacket and he growled in response.

“I’m tired, I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said when the snowman was only halfway made. Tabias’ bear ears twitched; he wanted to rage but instead he mumbled something similar to ‘fine.’

“Tabias...” Sister had her bottom on the door step and her feet were making shapes in the snow, “make me a Frosty the Snowman.”

“I am,” he retorted as he rolled the last ball for the snowman.

“No, I mean a real Frosty! I want him to dance and sing and be real!”

“That needs magic,” Tabias said, rolling his eyes. He lifted the heavy snowball for the head.

“I mean it!” Sister screamed, kicking snow at him. “I want him to move like a person!”

She began kicking a frenzy as if a snow storm had come from the ground up. Tabias walked over and planted the snowman’s head firmly on Sister’s body. She stopped kicking and stood up.

“There, a walking blind snow-girl.” Tabias walked into the house and closed the door as Sister’s screams were muffled by the wet snow and she wandered aimlessly.

Norma Rrae is an author based in Fort St. John. Read more at notmewriting.com.

© Copyright Alaska Highway News


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